


Raisin Cake

by Tiny_Dragongirl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Baking, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiny_Dragongirl/pseuds/Tiny_Dragongirl
Summary: The Bible didn't mention us (but it did mention raisin cakes).**(Multiple times, in fact.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Raisin Cake

“What are you doing, angel?”

“A raisin cake.” Aziraphale stirred something in a saucepan, nose scrunched up in concentration. “Or at least, I’m trying to.”

Ever since moving to the cottage, they had tried out new hobbies: gardening, tightrope walking, holding hands, cycling, cuddling… etc. Some of them worked out for them just fine, some of them— see, not so well. That morning his angel seemed to have thrown himself into a new project, and although baking wasn’t exactly the next item on Crowley’s list, he could work with it.

“Sounds like a wile that got out of hand.”

“What do you mean?”

“You put a few raisins in a cake because it’s fun to see the disappointment of people who hate raisins. But a whole raisin cake? Totally beside the point. It’s like planting a warning sign: watch out, raisin-haters, raisins of unusual size ahead!”

“Raisins of unusual size? I don’t think they exist.”

Crowley grinned. “Bastard.”

With a small, smug smile playing around the corners of his mouth, his angel put the saucepan on a cutting board and reached for the flour.

“But what if it’s a blessing got out of hand? Raisins are so small but so pleasant.”

As he watched his angel sifting flour and baking powder together, sending up a cloud of fine white dust, Crowley felt a strong desire to smear flour on Aziraphale’s nose. Just a little act of mischief—small but pleasant.

“Think of it as a treat for raisin-lovers,” Aziraphale concluded, dusting off his hands and checking the contents of the saucepan. Finding it sufficiently cooled, he added the mixture to the dry ingredients.

Crowley glanced at the flour box. His fingers twitched. That flour was tempting him. It was sitting there on the counter, right next to the bag of raisins, clearly provoking him.

Ah. The bag of raisins. They lived in a world where instead of doing the Apple Thing, one did the Raisin Cake Thing. What a twisted idea, really, to tempt someone with raisins. Tricky angel.

But, retired or not, Crowley was still a demon and a creative one. Hand him an apple and he will do the job. Hand him raisins— he could work with that, too.

“Maybe you are right.” He licked his lips. “Maybe I am missing some _raisins_ from my life. Something small but extremely pleasant—”

“You can try some if you’d like,” Aziraphale gestured to the bag.

Well, Crowley wasn’t going to wait for a written invitation. He reached out—but instead of grabbing the bag, he put a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder and gently turned him around. Then poked his index finger into the flour and drew a white line on Aziraphale’s right cheek. He repeated the act on the left cheek before moving to his angel’s nose. There. Almost complete.

As a finishing touch, Crowley leant in and kissed his angel.

The kiss tasted like gloves, nutmeg and cinnamon (Crowley would blame it on the raisin cake), like honey and lightning (totally blame it on Aziraphale’s holier-than-thou features), like coffee and rain (because they finally learnt to catch up and not to go too fast).

“Well, tightrope walking might have been a dead end concerning hobbies” Aziraphale said after they pulled apart, “but we’re definitely fit for baking.”

“Yeah, exact— What? Baking?!” Crowley gaped and his angel had the gall to lift a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes, baking.”

“Kissing! You were meant to say kissing! We’re definitely fit for kissing!”

“Ah, I see.”

Now his angel turned back to his work and started greasing a loaf pan. Since when did they own a loaf pan? Never mind. Crowley watched his angel pouring the mixture into the prepared pan _and couldn’t believe his eyes_. After 6000 years of friendship and a joint stopping of The Apocalypse, Crowley had expected some hard-won casualness when it came to kissing but this much?!

Ohh, the bastard. How much he loved him.

“You know, angel, I’m still missing some _raisins_ …”

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks and turned back to Crowley.

“Wait. Did you really refer to kissing as ‘raisins’?” Crowley shrugged. “How old are you, six?”

“Old enough to kiss you again.”

“Go ahead, my little nutmeg.”

In the end, because Crowley cracked at the nickname and couldn’t stop laughing, Aziraphale had to surge forward and silence him with a _raisin_.

**Author's Note:**

> Author has a baking kink and not sorry at all. Also, no beta-read, we Fall like Crowley.


End file.
